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<title>The Importance of Precision by Hopetohell</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26628319">The Importance of Precision</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopetohell/pseuds/Hopetohell'>Hopetohell</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mission: Impossible (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Brief Gore, Bruising, Fisting, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:14:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>570</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26628319</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopetohell/pseuds/Hopetohell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s an ongoing lesson, learning to be precise in asking for what you want. You’re getting pretty good at it, though.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>August Walker/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Importance of Precision</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>There’s a spot of gore in the first paragraph, and after that just wall-to-wall smut.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When he asks what you want, you know better now than to say “tear me apart,” because he will take you at your word. He’d sigh regretfully, sure, right before he pushed you down and planted a knee in your back. He’d tear your arm from its socket without hesitation, telling you<em> very poor choice of words, pet,</em> as you screamed and cried and tried to put back an arm dangling limp and longer than it ought to be. </p>
<p>So you choose your words carefully. It’s so very hard, not only selecting the words but saying them, overcoming a lifetime of being taught you must be circumspect about these things. But August is insistent that you overcome that reluctance, that you learn to voice your desires because <em>if you can’t tell me what you want, how can you really know for yourself?</em></p>
<p>And what you want is to be <em>fucked </em>hard,<em> August. I want you to shove me down onto the floor, not even onto the bed. I want you to tear my clothes away, just ruin them, so that if you let me dress later it’ll be something from you. I want you to grab my hips hard enough to bruise, not a little, enough that the marks will be purple and black for days. </em></p>
<p>
  <em>And I want you to shove your cock into me, don’t even think about whether I’m ready or not. Just shove it in, all at once, as hard as you can manage. I want you to bruise me inside too. I want to feel it afterward, want you to come inside, want you to use me and mark me inside and out so that every time I move I’ll feel it and remember how you own me. </em>
</p>
<p>And <em>oh </em>that tickles him, touches that possessive side of him that has his hand flexing where it rests on his thigh, as he sits and listens while you rush red-faced through your list of desires. <br/>He’s not unaffected, much as he pretends to be. He’s straining the front of his pants, face carefully impassive but his body betraying him, shifting just a little. </p>
<p>And when you tell him the next part, the part that makes your voice crack, his eyes light up as he leans forward, as you tell him how you want him to<em> spread me open even further with your hand, slide your fingers into me, stroke them along my walls where I’m all bruised and tender. Start right with three, don’t be kind about it, I’ll already be so wet and slick for you. Go to four before I have a chance to think about it, fold your thumb in before I get the chance to start to worry.  </em></p>
<p>
  <em>And when you’ve got your whole hand in, make a fist. Please. Curl your hand on itself and press your fist as deep as you can manage. Pin me there like an insect; you’ll have fucked me into incoherence, now remind me again how you own me, that you are on me and in me and around me always. Make it so I can’t help but be aware of every inch of you. Make it too much, make me cry. </em>
</p>
<p>And when you lapse into silence, cheeks burning, he stands. He reaches for his belt and his voice is strained when he says “let’s see how careful you were with your words this time.”</p>
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